House Call
by Sam C
Summary: Sequel to "Distress Call". Janeway struggles to deal with her recent experiences as Seven-of-Nine tries to understand her newly-discovered feelings, seeking help from her friends. J/7, rated M for adult scenes.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the first sequel to a previous story I wrote, "Distress Call". You can read this one without having read that, but some elements of the story may not make much sense.

The characters belong to Paramount, I'm just borrowing them. This story contains a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes – if you don't like this then don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!

Chapter 1

**Part 1**

When Kathryn Janeway's eyes eventually fluttered open, it was after a long period of restlessness, her consciousness caught between sleeping and waking in that no-man's land of disorientation. Scraps of memory had drifted through her mind as though caught on a swirling breeze, one replaced by another with nothing to link them, just random snatches from her waking moments. Even as she awoke the fog remained, hiding her recent experiences under a blanket of confusion.

Captain of Voyager; experienced officer; Intelligent, loyal, courageous woman – Janeway was the complete Starfleet package contained in a small yet sturdy body that at this moment lay motionless, her fuzzy mind trying to comprehend why another pair of arms surrounded her. That aside, what she did know was that her whole body hurt from head to toe, with a few places where the pain reached several notches above her level of normal tolerance. She began a mental catalogue, noting in particular an aching shoulder, tender ribcage and areas where a dull throb seemed to penetrate deep into her body.

The mystery arms, Janeway noted gratefully, held her in such a way that they caused her no extra pain, one which ran under her neck and stretched out to a seemingly impossible distance; the other resting lightly on the bare skin of her waist, but rather than tucking around her stomach – one of the places where she had obviously sustained injury – it ended in a hand that lay on the sheets in front of Janeway. Coherent thought still just out of reach, the Captain studied the hand, its long, pale fingers curled slightly, palm facing back towards her. Bemused, she reached down with a hand of her own, brushing the smooth skin which felt cool to her touch.

Slowly, like the creeping of a tide over a sandy plain, she became aware of an odd warmth spreading from her shoulders down her spine, over the graceful curves of her buttocks and thighs and the backs of her calves. A slight pressure accompanied this newly-discovered sensation, which Janeway found reassuring yet which caused a feeling of worry to tug at her surfacing mind.

When understanding returned, it was with the force of an uncontained warp core breach that left her mentally if not literally gasping for breath. She forced herself into a state of calm panic, if such a thing even existed, managing not to move even as her heart thudded in her chest. When the voice spoke, she thought the shock might actually finish her off, an ignoble end for a starship captain.

"Are you well, Captain?" The sound was close to her ear, a smooth, low tone that was unmistakeably female. The owner of the voice remained still, tucked up behind Janeway, her breath warm on the Captain's neck.

'_Don't panic, Kathryn_' Janeway told herself, though it was a little late for such advice. '_Don't do anything hasty._' Better – a suggestion she could actually use. She stretched her limbs, only a fraction but enough that she could edge away from the other occupant of her large bed without being too obvious, though there was still the problem of the arms. Gently, Janeway extricated herself from Seven-of-Nine's grasp and moved over, finding a safe, cool spot where she was able to think more clearly and plan her next manoeuvre.

After boldly going naked in her quarters, disrobing in front of a stunned yet clearly appreciative Seven-of-Nine, Voyager's ex-Borg Astrometrics Officer, Janeway remembered being carried to her bed by the younger woman, weeping from pain and exhaustion. She remembered clinging to Seven as she gently placed Janeway down, and remembered feeling so safe and protected as the ex-Borg joined her and held her in a comforting embrace. What Janeway didn't remember was what, if anything, had happened after that.

'_So probably nothing,' _the little voice said inside her head, rolling its metaphorical eyes. Janeway wanted to believe this, needed time to think, alone. Definitely alone. '_Then face the music, Kathryn!'_ Sighing briefly, she proceeded to do exactly that.

"Good morning, Seven. I hope you slept well?" Friendly, light, she hoped her tone conveyed her need for privacy to her younger companion, who was not the best person to expect to pick up on subtleties. Janeway finally dared to open her eyes, greeted by the sight of the tall, blonde Borg stretching languidly like a just-woken young tiger. Despite Janeway's efforts they were still close together, though no longer touching, and Seven's outstretched hand almost brushed the older woman's cheek.

"I am adequately rested. Do you wish me to leave?"

The question, as one would always expect from the Borg, was direct, with no verbal frills or superfluous words, and Janeway wondered whether the young woman knew how rattled her Captain was. She felt that she ought to offer – well, something – an apology, a thank you, an explanation of some sort, but in her current emotional state it proved impossible. In a flash of decisiveness, Janeway replied. She would sort out the consequences, whatever they were, later.

"I think that would be best."

**Part 2**

Seven-of-Nine was aware when Janeway's consciousness began to surface from the murky depths of a troubled sleep. The Captain had been restless throughout the night, turning from side to side, back to front, frequently murmuring disjointed phrases. Each change in Janeway's position was matched by the ex-Borg who kept a continuous hold on the older woman whilst avoiding the worst of her injuries and the Captain's more intimate areas. She waited quietly for Janeway to awaken, a shiver of pleasure running through her body at one point when the dazed Captain's hand lightly brushed her own, but when the small form suddenly tensed, accompanied by a dramatic increase in heart rate, Seven's concern forced her to speak.

"Are you well, Captain?" she asked, as softly as she could manage, resisting an urge to brush the exposed neck in front of her with her lips, to adjust her grip and pull the rigid body closer. There was no answer immediately, though the older woman's heart rate decreased a little, but Seven could feel the Captain edging away from her until a narrow stretch of mattress, a gaping chasm of physical separation, opened between them.

Though she had spent most of her life as a Borg drone, serving the Collective with no free will of her own, the young woman was capable of the full range of human emotions, a good portion of which flooded her system at that point. Detaching the scientific part of her psyche, she attempted to analyse her feelings, failing due to the sheer intensity of them and instead concentrating on maintaining an impassive mask of calm. Had she spent her life as a human being, those emotions would have been recognisable to her as hurt, confusion, and rejection coupled with love and desire for her complicated Captain.

"Good morning, Seven. I hope you slept well?" Janeway's normal speaking voice cut through her thoughts.

The Captain sounded bright and friendly, with no trace of the need for comfort and companionship that had brought them together the previous evening. She could have been ordering her morning coffee. A stab of pain lanced through Seven's heart, but she had set her expression carefully and it didn't show. With an exaggerated stretch that unintentionally (maybe) almost caught Janeway in the face, the Borg rose onto one elbow, her eyes meeting the other woman's briefly before Janeway looked away. It was clear from the Captain's tone and body language that Seven's presence was no longer required.

"I am adequately rested," she stated flatly, noting the way Janeway had pulled up the covers, hiding every inch of her body up to her slender neck. _'She regrets the closeness we shared'_ thought Seven suddenly, having to work hard to keep her voice steady as she continued to speak. "Do you wish me to leave?"

It was a simple question requiring a simple answer, and Janeway provided one, quashing any hope that Seven still retained of maintaining the intimacy between them.

"I think that would be best."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

"Seven, what the hell is wrong with you?" B'Elanna Torres's tone was even more exasperated than usual, bordering on downright mad. The Chief Engineer and Voyager's ex-Borg Astrometrics Officer had been at loggerheads since Seven-of-Nine had come aboard, but with the Captain's encouragement the two very different women had reached a wary truce. Even so, Torres was not one to put up with any nonsense, which she made clear in her own special way.

Seven glanced across at the engineer, who had stopped working and was glaring at her with hands on hips. The tall blonde merely met the glare with an equally cool expression of her own, not saying a word. With B'Elanna, though, it was rarely necessary for other people to fill in the silences.

"You waltz in here offering to help, then when I give you a job to do you just stand there. I ask if anything's wrong, you ignore me. I ask you to pass me a coil spanner and you give me a phase compensator!" She waved the offending tool towards Seven, emphasising her point. "Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong before I throw you out of my department?"

"I do not," stated the Borg calmly, not looking at Torres but focusing on the console in front of her, or at least trying to make it appear that way. In truth, her mind was still back in the Captain's quarters, remembering how she had left Janeway huddled in the bed sheets, a small, forlorn figure.

"Well something's obviously gotten to you. Someone upset you?"

Seven deigned to turn around to face B'Elanna, realising that whilst this was probably the wrong time, place and person she was desperate to talk. "You could say that," she allowed, and Torres let out a forceful breath. Seven wasn't certain but it may have been accompanied by a soft curse.

"So," the half-Klingon began, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her lips, "why don't you do what you normally do and punch their lights out?" The crude attempt at making the Borg talk worked, surprising Torres no end. Seven's blue eyes remained dull and flat, though, which worried even B'Elanna. Normally that kind of comment would result in Torres being the recipient of Seven's handy fist.

"In this case that approach would be unwise."

"You belted Chakotay without worrying about what might happen, so I can't see why anyone else would be a problem," Torres pointed out in a reasonable tone, as though instead of inciting violence she was discussing Neelix's latest recipe. "Unless it's the Captain," she added, laughing. She quickly stopped when she noticed Seven's expression, very different to the usual one of barely-disguised disdain. She looked…upset. Torres approached the young woman carefully.

"It's the Captain, isn't it?" Torres asked, not really needing a confirmation, for Seven's face said it all. "Look, Seven, go easy on her, okay? She's been through hell, as you know – you were the one who rescued her from that place. Whatever it is that's happened, just…give Captain Janeway some time."

The Borg nodded silently, her eyes now bright with unshed tears. If B'Elanna noticed, for once she refrained from tormenting her colleague. The Klingon patted Seven on the arm awkwardly. "Why don't you go and talk to the Doctor?" she suggested, hoping that the young Borg would take her advice – for her own sake as well as to get her out of Engineering. The last thing B'Elanna needed was a moping Borg cluttering up the place.

"Perhaps you are right, Lieutenant. Thank you." Seven turned to go, the Chief Engineer's stunned gaze following her.

"You're welcome," replied Torres, and rather than being a pointedly sarcastic reminder, this time it was sincere. "Wonders will never cease," she muttered under her breath as she went back to work.

**Part 2**

Seven had dressed and left quickly, leaving the Captain alone with her thoughts. She hadn't moved for over an hour, just laid in her bed with a thick duvet pulled up to her chin, staring at the ceiling. She hadn't even done much thinking, for every time she pictured the young Borg's face she found herself shaking and fighting off the tears that seemed ever-present, ready to burst out with the slightest provocation. Eventually Janeway let them come, streaming down the sides of her face as her head rested on the pillow she had shared the previous night with Seven-of-Nine.

She could still feel the young woman's arms around her, the ample breasts pressed against her back, the knees tucked up under hers, cocooning Janeway so tenderly. _'That's what you wanted, Kathryn,'_ her inner voice reminded, though she hadn't forgotten. _'You wanted comfort, she gave it. Then you pushed her away.'_

I didn't push her away, Janeway answered herself angrily, but the anger came from knowing that she had done just that. But surely Seven hadn't been bothered? It was she who offered to go, Janeway argued.

The Captain lay still, her conflicting emotions whirling around like leaves in a tornado. She knew that she would have to face Seven-of-Nine sooner or later, firstly because it was a small ship and impossible to avoid someone; secondly because as the Captain she couldn't allow an issue to separate her from a member of her crew; thirdly…because Janeway knew that she owed her friend an explanation. If only she could think of one.

'_The truth. You want her, oh yes you do, but you're too damned scared to face it.'_

"Oh, shut up!" Janeway cried out loud, the forceful words catching pathetically in her throat. She knew that however much she denied it, last night she had felt cared for in a way that she hadn't experienced in a long time. Just to be held, with no expectations, no words needed, an embrace that had started in the shuttlecraft and continued here, in her bed in the Captain's quarters. Seven had been more tender than she thought possible in the way that she touched her, so carefully, lovingly but never in a sexual way, as though she knew exactly what Janeway had needed that night.

Buried in a duvet, the small figure began to weep once more, a private pain that she would not, could not share with anyone. Her body shook, making her physical aches worse, and Janeway cried until she could take no more, her mind shutting down and pulling her into blissful unconsciousness.

**Part 3**

The Doctor hummed while he worked, a rousing _canzone_ from a favourite Italian opera. Sick bay was empty of patients, there were no immediate medical duties to attend to, and he was sitting in his office reviewing his upcoming schedule – routine check-ups, ongoing research projects, some additions to his program that might be of benefit. He enjoyed treating patients, of course, but for once it was good to have some time for other work. Leaning back in the chair, his humming turned into words as he sang in a strong, clear tenor.

"_Muta d'accento — e di pensiero._ _Sempre un amabile,_ _Leggi-"_

He stopped hastily as the sound of the sick bay doors swishing open reached his holographic senses, and left his office to greet the visitor, somewhat annoyed at being disturbed when the day had started so promisingly. His irritation quickly departed when he caught sight of Seven-of-Nine. The Doctor's friend appeared pale and shaken, and his concern was instant. Snatching up a medical tricorder, the hologram crossed the room, took the Borg's arm and steered her to a biobed where she perched uncomfortably.

"Seven? What's the matter?" he asked urgently, scanning the young woman thoroughly with particular attention to her non-human systems. Finding nothing of note, he deposited the device on a nearby tray and focused on the woman's face, noting with alarm the small tear forming in the corner of one eye.

"I am physically well, Doctor," Seven stated with the hint of a waver. "I wish to discuss a personal matter; however I require your assurance that it will go no further."

His concern subsiding with the ex-Borg's words, at least medically speaking, the Doctor replied immediately. "Of course, Seven, you have my word. What is it?"

There was a long silence as Seven-of-Nine regained her composure. Giving her time, Voyager's holographic Chief Medical Officer waited patiently, knowing that his friend would speak when she was ready. They had spent much time together, with the Doctor giving the Borg 'social lessons' to help her integrate into the crew, and during this time they had become close friends. Of all the people on board Seven trusted the Doctor more than anyone, with the possible exception of Captain Janeway, at least until this morning.

The Emergency Medical Hologram watched the young woman carefully as she began to speak, searching for the subtle changes of expression that he had learned to read with some success. Her blonde hair was affixed in its customary style, wrapped up at the back, but several wispy strands had come loose. They drifted across the pale features, making the Borg appear much younger than usual. He listened and watched, allowing Seven to speak without interruption.

"I recently came to realise that I am experiencing feelings of attraction towards a member of the crew. I was unaware that such a thing could affect me so…powerfully. There was an incident recently where I was alone with this person, and I felt a connection between us. I was certain that the attraction was mutual. Last night I visited the crewmember in their quarters. They were – they needed companionship, and we spent the night together. It was a…platonic experience, but my…affection for this person grew even stronger. However, this morning, they obviously no longer required my company – they acted as though nothing unusual had occurred. I left, as it was clear I had no choice, and now I am experiencing some…difficult emotions."

Only Seven-of-Nine could sum up the experience in such a straightforward manner, with only a few slight hesitations, but the Doctor was pleased that she had offered as much as she had. At least he had something to work with, though it was clear that the Borg's words had not even come close to describing the extent of her feelings.

"Tell me about how you feel now," he said gently, leaning on the biobed next to the tall woman and deliberately not looking at her. Again there was a pause.

"I feel…rejected. Confused. Perhaps angry."

"Angry with this person?"

"No." Seven's denial was forceful. "With myself. I should not have allowed my feelings for them to develop. It has made me vulnerable and weak."

The Doctor sighed at Seven's words. Though she had made great strides towards regaining her humanity, some of the ideals dear to the Borg held fast – a hatred of weakness for one. "It isn't a sign of weakness to feel these things, Seven. It's normal, particularly in regard to relationships with others when things don't go to plan. Why do you think the other person behaved in that way?"

"I do not know." The answer was simple, but just thinking about Janeway's behaviour brought the tears back to the young Borg's eyes. The Doctor put a fatherly arm around her and squeezed gently.

"I'll try to explain, then. Human relationships are complicated, and frequently people behave in an unexpected way. Normally, people your age have already experienced several relationships and have learned how to deal with situations that arise. It takes patience and understanding, and even then it doesn't always work out. This person was probably embarrassed that you caught them in a vulnerable state; they may be uncertain what they want from you and how far they want the relationship to go. I sincerely doubt that whoever it is meant to hurt you, and they might not even realise that they have done so."

Seven's eyes met the Doctor's, shining a bright blue. He desperately wanted to ask the identity of this mystery person, mainly so that he could give more specific advice but also because he was highly curious as to who could affect the ex-Borg so drastically. Just as he was working up to asking, thinking of a way to phrase the question delicately, Seven offered the information of her own accord.

"Doctor, perhaps you would be able to assist me more easily if you possessed more information. The person I am speaking of is-" she swallowed hesitantly, and the Doctor gave her an encouraging smile. "It is Captain Janeway."

Hiding his surprise well, the hologram thought for a moment before replying. The situation was far more complicated than it had first appeared, and it was a distinct possibility that he now had two distraught women to contend with.

"I see. As you know, the Captain has suffered a major ordeal recently, and she possesses a…shall we say …complicated character. I was extremely reluctant to release her from sick bay yesterday, and I'm not surprised she was feeling in need of comfort. Seven, when you say it was a platonic experience, can you clarify what you mean by that?"

Seven inclined her head. Anyone else would have found the question intrusive, not to mention highly embarrassing, but the young woman was seemingly immune to such trivialities. "The Captain and I slept together naked in her bed. I held her in my arms throughout the night, but there was no…intimacy."

"I beg to differ," blurted the Doctor, then tempered his words. "I mean – Seven, intimacy isn't just about sex, it's about closeness, emotional and physical. A touch can be intimate, yes, but so can a conversation or even a look. I assume you meant there was no sexual contact?"

"Correct." The ex-Borg regarded the Doctor questioningly, an eyebrow raised. "Do you believe the Captain regrets the…intimacy?"

It wasn't an easy question, for Janeway's mind was impossible to read at the best of times. "Maybe, it's hard to say. She was physically exhausted, which may have caused her to make decisions she normally wouldn't have. How was she when you left this morning?"

"She appeared to be in pain. She found it difficult to speak. When I left the Captain remained in bed. I did not want to leave," admitted Seven, wiping away another tear with her sleeve. "I did not believe that she should be alone. The woman I left was…not how I am accustomed to seeing Captain Janeway."

"I think I need to make a house call. Try not to worry, Seven, and I'll speak to you later."

The young woman and the Doctor rose together from the biobed, Seven thanking the hologram and quickly leaving sick bay. The Chief Medical Officer paused, thinking back over the entire conversation, and his worry for the Captain grew larger. Grabbing a medical kit and affixing the mobile emitter to his sleeve, the Doctor requested a site-to-site transport to the doors of the Captain's quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

The Doctor materialised in a swirl of blue light outside a set of doors on Deck 3. The corridor was deserted, unsurprising for the First Officer, whose quarters were nearby, was currently on duty and the VIP guest quarters which also inhabited this deck were unoccupied at present. Voyager's Chief Medical Officer, a hologram possessing amazing medical skills that made up for his frequent lack of tact and bedside manner, pressed the panel in front of him, sounding a chime in the Captain's quarters.

He waited for a moment then stabbed at the console again with an impatient holographic finger, but still there was no reply. This was not entirely unexpected, though, and there were other, though less polite, ways of gaining entry.

"Computer, open the doors to the Captain's quarters, authorisation EMH pi zero four." As the senior physician on board he possessed the authorisation to unlock any door for purposes of medical necessity, even when the Captain herself had sealed it, and the doors emitted a low beep in response before sliding open with a soft swooshing sound.

The living room was in darkness, with only the faint shimmer of Voyager's warp field outside the windows providing any light. "Increase illumination, fifty percent," ordered the Doctor, and instantly the command was obeyed, bathing the room in a serene glow. It wasn't often that the hologram had entered these particular quarters, yet tempting though it was to take a moment to look around, now was not the time.

"Captain," he called softly, making his way to the large bedroom off to one side. Respect for his commanding officer made him knock briefly before invading her privacy, but when no reply was forthcoming the Doctor made his way in. In one corner of the double bed, curled in on itself and clutching a heavy duvet, lay the inert, small form of Captain Janeway. The hologram stepped over to that side and gently shook one of the woman's shoulders, repeating her name once more. Still no response, and the Doctor immediately became more businesslike in his manner.

"Computer, lights to full. Captain Janeway, can you hear me?" Even as he asked the question he knew she could not, for the tricorder he used to scan her indicated that the Captain was unconscious. Extracting a hypospray from the medical kit he carried, the Doctor hesitated briefly before putting it to Janeway's neck. She probably needed rest, but in the form of sleep, and there were other matters that needed to be discussed before the Doctor would feel comfortable in leaving the Captain alone. He depressed the button, injecting a stimulant along with an analgesic into Janeway's bloodstream.

It took a minute, but soon a groggy Captain was struggling to sit up, and the hologram offered his arm which was gratefully accepted. Sensing that he needed to tread carefully, he sat on the bed and waited.

"Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I would like to be alone." Usually when Janeway uttered phrases such as these they were accompanied by a threatening tone and a commanding glare, but neither were present this time. There was no force behind her words, just a weary resignation and disinterest that registered high on the physician's worry scale.

The Doctor spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, hoping that this approach would be enough to allow the Captain to open up to him as she had rarely done in the past. "Captain, I know that you're still suffering from your injuries; I've given you an analgesic which should help. You also need to rest for a few days – anyone would after going through what you've experienced recently. But right now I need you to talk to me. How are you feeling?"

Janeway lay back down, her voice muffled as she turned her face away. "Let me guess, Doctor. You've spoken to Seven."

It was a statement more than a question, and a reply wasn't necessary. A silence stretched out, not a comfortable one but filled with anxiety and concern, before the Captain spoke again.

"How is she?" The question was asked hesitantly, as though Janeway was unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer, but there was a tenderness to her tone that the Doctor found heart-warming.

"She's upset, naturally, as obviously you are too. You know as well as I do that beneath that cold Borg exterior lies a woman of extraordinary sensitivity, but she doesn't yet have the experience to deal with these kind of…incidents."

Janeway's head sank even further into the pillow, the same one Seven's head had rested on the previous night whilst they had slept, sharing an embrace that gave Janeway the comfort and protection she had desperately sought in the arms of the young woman. She didn't know what to say – unusual for the Captain – and so she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent from the ex-Borg's fine, blonde hair that still lingered on the silky material. She felt the pressure of the Doctor's hand on her shoulder, and it felt reassuring despite it being constructed of photons and force fields.

"Captain, I can't tell you what to do, and I'm not going to try, but I can see that you're hurting. Please, talk to me, it will help you to think and deal with what has happened if nothing else." The Doctor felt a slight shift under his hand as Janeway moved her head, and he patted her arm encouragingly.

In a low tone, full of emotion, Janeway finally began to speak from the heart, much as Seven had done earlier in sick bay, and as before the Chief Medical Officer simply listened.

"I'm assuming you know exactly what happened, so I won't bother telling you all that. I needed someone last night, I didn't know exactly who or why, and then when Seven turned up it seemed so right. She…she was amazing. She didn't ask stupid questions or expect anything from me that I couldn't give; she was just there for me. I haven't had that for a long time. She held me so carefully, so tenderly that I almost stopped breathing-" a choked sob stopped the Captain mid-sentence, and she had to make an effort to continue.

"I woke up this morning, and she was so close, our bodies were touching, and…I was scared, suddenly absolutely terrified that I'd done the wrong thing, that I would hurt her or she would hurt me, and – well, you know the rest. She left, I've been here since."

Finally, the Doctor began to realise the extent of his Captain's suffering. She had dropped her head back to the pillow once more, and the hologram knew that he had heard everything that Janeway was willing to share. It was enough.

"I've said before that you are lonely, that you need to be close to someone, and we've talked about how that can't be with a member of your crew. But Seven is different; there's no reason why the two of you can't have a relationship. Anyway, that's not my point right now. You panicked when you realised that you had gotten close to someone, you couldn't allow yourself to believe that there was the possibility of happiness there."

The Doctor leaned closer to Janeway, making sure she heard his next words. "Captain, life isn't a mousetrap and Seven isn't the cheese. Don't throw away this chance. Seven's an extraordinary woman, and it's clear that she cares deeply for you. I think you care for her, too."

Rising from the bed, the hologram patted Janeway's shoulder one more time, then retrieved his medical kit from the floor. He was satisfied that, although still not herself, the Captain was beginning to function again, physically and mentally. Before he left, there was just one more thing.

"Captain, I anticipate that you may have several visitors today. I suggest that a shower and some clothing would be prudent."

A muffled reply lightened the Doctor's spirits considerably, for it was dripping with the wry sarcasm that he had come to know so well.

"Aye, sir."

**Part 2**

"Anyway, then I made a joke about how if she could punch Chakotay, then she could punch anyone except the Captain, and, Tom, you should've seen her face-"

"Let me guess," Tom Paris interrupted, speaking through a mouthful of pizza, "she raised an eyebrow." Both the boyish helmsman and his friend Harry Kim laughed loudly at this attempt at wit. Their lunch companion, Tom's feisty, half-Klingon girlfriend, wasted no time in gouging her partner hard in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

"Ow, B'Elanna!"

"You're not listening," snapped Torres, before lowering her voice since several other diners in the mess hall were beginning to take an interest in the officers' conversation. "She was really upset, she was nearly crying. Have you ever seen her like that before?"

The two men shook their heads. "No," admitted Paris, "but if anyone can upset a Borg it's Captain Janeway."

Harry smiled, and Torres shot a glare at the young Ensign that quickly wiped the grin from his round face. With a snort of disapproval she stood up and marched off with her tray, leaving the men to look at each other in surprise.

"I think we weren't taking her seriously enough," mused Harry, stabbing something that was trying hard to look like a chip with his fork.

"She'll get over it," grinned Tom, though he was considering the image of Seven-of-Nine shedding a tear with a newfound respect. "I hope Seven's okay; I didn't think she cared enough to get upset about anything."

"Just goes to show, you never should underestimate the Borg."

**Part 3**

Janeway had taken the Doctor's advice and taken a hot shower, feeling somewhat more human if not a great deal happier afterwards. She was cleaner, anyway. Deciding against wearing her uniform, for she wasn't going to be on duty for several days, she donned an old, comfortable pair of black jeans and a plain blue cotton shirt. Any visitors would have to take her as they found her, she decided, pulling on a pair of socks but leaving the shoes off.

With a coffee in hand, she stood in the middle of her quarters, surveying them. All around the room were small items that she had collected over the years, each one holding a special significance. A large set of shelves held over a hundred books, real paper books that Janeway loved to touch. In one corner was a console where she could access the computer as well as a number of ship's systems, and dotted around were a variety of plants that she had acquired, many from Kes when the young Ocampan had managed the aeroponics bay.

There were two easy chairs, one of which was a large, comfortable armchair that Janeway snuggled into most evenings whilst reading or just thinking, and a two-seater couch faced the chairs with a low table in between. There was also a larger, higher table off to one side where Janeway could do work that didn't involve the computer, and this was also where she ate meals if she had company. At the moment the table's entire surface was covered with a half-finished jigsaw, all the loose pieces spread out face-upwards and organised by predominant colour. Janeway tackled jigsaws like she did everything else – methodically, analytically with a determination to get the job done. The only time she hadn't finished one was back on Earth when several pieces of sky went missing, only to turn up a few days later severely chewed and smelling strongly of dog breath.

She watered the plants, dusted the surfaces, wiped the windows with a wet cloth, brushed the furniture and drank several litres of hot, black coffee. The physical activity kept her occupied, her mind unable to concentrate on her problems, which was the idea. Eventually, though, Janeway ran out of jobs to do, and turned instead to the jigsaw, thinking it would have a similar effect.

"Alright, now, a bit of the edge of the wormhole, pale blue, a strip of black and the very corner of that runabout," she murmured, scanning the pieces. Unfortunately, any jigsaw involving a space scene contained quite a lot of black, which wasn't helpful. But Janeway didn't give up – once she had set her sights on a piece she was damn well going to find it if it took all night – and soon the piece was slotted in. Briefly she wondered what Seven-of-Nine would say about this particular pastime, but the Captain pushed the thought from her mind and began searching for the next piece, requiring mostly the grey edge of the runabout with a sliver of window on an edge with a hole.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

"Seven, got a minute?" Chakotay's voice came from behind as she walked quickly towards a turbolift, answering a request from the Doctor that she meet him in sick bay. Slowing her pace, she waited for the First Officer to catch up. He was breathing hard when he did, and Seven suspected that he had been following her for a while, though she didn't understand why he didn't simply call her over the comm system.

"Hey, Seven," the large, bear-like man gasped, stopping when he reached the young woman. "I just wanted to say how pleased I am that you're back on board. I thought we'd lost you for a while."

The Commander was referring to a recent incident where Janeway – actually an alien impostor, though nobody knew it at the time – had ordered Seven to leave Voyager after a series of misdemeanours. Seven had rescued the real Janeway, and though the aftermath was still being dealt with by the Captain herself, Seven hadn't thought about the moment she left Voyager since her debriefing.

"Thank you, Commander. I am pleased to have returned to Voyager." The ex-Borg resumed her journey towards sick bay, only to have Chakotay trot alongside her rather like an oversized puppy waiting for its owner to throw a ball.

"We owe you a lot, Seven. If it hadn't been for you, we might not have got the Captain back. Have you spoken to her at all?" Finally, he was getting around to the topic of conversation that was his real reason for chasing Seven across half the ship. The blonde regarded him coolly, a slight frown marring her fine Nordic features.

"We have exchanged a few words," she allowed, not a lie but hardly the whole story. When Seven had been about to leave Voyager in the shuttlecraft _Sacajawea_, she had confessed to Chakotay that she cared for Janeway a great deal, and the Borg suspected that he was interested in whether she would be pursuing anything with the Captain.

"Right. Okay then. Well, maybe you should go and see her tonight, she's probably feeling a bit down. I was going to pop in myself later."

"It is already my intention to see the Captain this evening. I plan to replicate dinner for us both." Seven's statement conveyed a very clear message, and Chakotay understood perfectly, nodding in agreement.

"Great, well, have fun. I'll talk to you later." He padded off the way he had come, leaving Seven to continue on to sick bay wondering why people couldn't simply say what they think. It would make things much easier, she thought.

Sick bay was still empty, and Seven-of-Nine had to activate the Doctor's program.

"Please state the nature of – ah, Seven, good. I just wanted to let you know that I went to see Captain Janeway. We had a long talk – well, we had a talk," he amended "and I believe she is improving. I think you ought to go and see her this evening. I know it will be hard, but-"

"You are the second person to suggest that course of action," Seven said with some irritation. "As I said to Commander Chakotay, that is indeed my intention. There is nothing 'hard' about it."

Not for the first time, the Doctor marvelled at his friend's strength of character. Few people, after being apparently rejected as Janeway had done to the ex-Borg, would have the nerve to go back again, and even fewer would bear absolutely no grudge because of it.

"Good, I'm pleased about that. Perhaps if you try and have a conversation this time, hm?"

"I will endeavour to do so, Doctor. Thank you for your assistance."

**Part 2**

Janeway's eyes were starting to ache from the strain of examining thousands of tiny jigsaw pieces for even tinier blobs of blue or grey or black, and it was with some relief that she heard the door beep. Rising from the chair, she crossed to the door whilst inviting the visitor to enter. Tuvok, the chief of security and one of Janeway's oldest friends, stepped into the room, as usual his manner reserved and dignified. He carried a colourful bloom set into a small, tasteful pot, and when Janeway approached him he held it out.

"Greetings, Captain. I brought you this as a token of my good wishes. It is a new species of orchid that I have created, one which is beautiful, unique and unusually hardy. I have named it '_Kathryn's Heart'_."

Janeway was speechless. She took the exquisite little plant and regarded it from all angles, noticing how the colours appeared to change as the angle of the light altered, red merging into purple then blue. The Vulcan stood patiently as she smiled, her eyes filling with tears, this time of joy and friendship.

"It's wonderful, Tuvok," she whispered, touching the delicate petals with the lightest of caresses. It seemed to respond, the edge curling up a fraction. "I don't know what to say."

Vulcan males were not known for being comfortable when others were having emotional outbursts, and the security chief was no different. His reply was so matter-of-fact, so absolutely Tuvok that Janeway laughed even through her tears. "I believe 'thank you' would be an appropriate response."

"Well then, thank you, Tuvok. Would you care for a drink?" She placed the pot down carefully in the centre of a shelf, finally tearing her eyes away from the plant, her namesake.

"No, thank you, Captain. I must return to duty; however I am pleased to see that you are recovering. Please call me if I can be of assistance in any way."

"I will," Janeway said softly. She followed the slender man to the door and saw him out, leaning against the wall once he had disappeared from sight. Though the Vulcans didn't feel emotions as humans did, she had found Tuvok to be a kind, sensitive man, and she would think of that every time her eyes fell on the petite, intriguing orchid.

**Part 3**

"This is a bad idea, B'Elanna. Come on, let's go to the holodeck or something." Tom tried to catch hold of the Klingon's arm, which was definitely a bad idea. Torres pulled it away without having to exert herself in the slightest.

"Shhhh, it's too late now, we're here." With a meaningful glance the chief engineer pressed the door chime, and with a resigned look on his face Tom ceased his attempts at dissuading his headstrong girlfriend. A voice called them in, and with a triumphant smile Torres led the way, carrying a small, brightly-decorated box with a ribbon tied gaily around the middle.

Captain Janeway stood up, looking more casual than they had ever seen her, out of uniform with her hair left to its own devices and her shirt looking a little crumpled. She placed a book on the coffee table and went to greet them. B'Elanna shot her companion a pointed look that clearly said 'let me do the talking'. Paris was only too happy to oblige.

"Hi, Captain, we just wanted to see how you were. We brought you these, to say, you know, get well soon." Torres passed the box to Janeway who opened it with care, for unwrapping presents from a Klingon could sometimes prove surprising. 'Beware Klingons bearing gifts' was the modern version of a very old saying, however, under the lid was a selection of fine, handmade chocolates, without a live worm or trophy body part in sight. Janeway was genuinely touched.

"Thank you, lieutenants, this is very kind of you."

"We're glad to have you back, Captain. It all got a little hairy for a while before we realised it wasn't you who had us locked up for mutiny." Torres was as relaxed as it was possible for the highly-strung woman to be, and Tom himself was nearly fooled.

"Thank you, B'Elanna, I appreciate that. Although, if I found you all meeting secretly in the holodeck at oh-one-hundred-hours, I can't say I would necessarily act any differently." Janeway was one astute Captain, thought Tom wryly, as she smiled back at her officers. Regardless, Torres ploughed on with her prepared conversation, ignoring several discreet coughs from her partner.

"We're all very grateful to Seven for rescuing you, Captain. Is it true she had to carry you through a forest?" Naked, was the unspoken word that was on the tip of Torres's tongue, though she managed to keep it there rather than saying it out loud. Tom looked at his feet, but he couldn't close his ears, and his cheeks flushed pink.

Janeway smiled again, and it was a sincere one. Of course she knew that Torres was fishing for information – probably half the crew suspected that something was going on, but Janeway knew that underneath was a caring person, though the half-Klingon tried hard to disguise it. _'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em'_ the little voice said, and the Captain agreed.

"Oh yes, for over a kilometre I hear. She pulled me out of the alien chamber, I was unconscious and they had removed my clothes, so I doubt I was looking my best. Seven carried me to the shuttle in her arms and treated my injuries, then we returned to Voyager. Surely all the senior officers were briefed about the incident?"

B'Elanna glanced at Tom, whose return expression left her under no illusion that he was willing to help out. Eventually she surrendered, the game won by Janeway to the delight of the Captain who allowed a warm grin to spread across her features. Stepping forward, Janeway placed a hand on each of their shoulders and turned them around, walking in between the young couple and steering them towards the door. She couldn't resist one last teasing comment.

"I'm sure I could rely on any one of my crew to drag me naked through the woods, B'Elanna. Of course, I would do the same for any of you," the Captain said slyly, passing her eyes over the small yet muscular form of Torres, who took a step backwards and promptly fell over a chair, to the amusement of both Janeway and Paris.

"Of course. Bye, Captain." As the doors opened, Torres fled, a laughing Tom Paris nodding to Janeway before following his girlfriend. He would pay for it later, no doubt, but for now it was totally worth it.

**Part 4**

By the time the next visitor arrived, the Captain was nearly back to her old self, mentally speaking. The physical side would take a while longer, she realised, wincing and stepping heavily across the room once again. She glanced across at an antique clock that hung on one wall and was surprised to notice that it was almost 20:00 hours. The evening had flown by, due mainly to the succession of well-wishers that had descended upon Janeway.

The latest was Chakotay, who greeted her with a warm smile and a gentle hug then stepped back to regard her with a first officer's enquiring eye, looking for any sign that his Captain was unwell. Satisfied, he grinned broadly and held out a hand, from which dangled a bottle of real wine, albeit not from Earth. Grabbing it with delight, Janeway leaned forward and stretched up to kiss the tall man lightly on the cheek.

"You always know what I need, Chakotay," she laughed, beckoning towards the chairs and table. "Join me for dinner?"

Janeway was surprised when the Commander remained where he was, shaking his head to decline her offer. She had assumed that would be the idea given the time, and her curiosity got the better of her. "Why not, Chakotay? Do you have somewhere else you need to be?"

He smiled again, reaching out and lightly touching her arm, squeezing gently. "I'd love to stay, Captain, but I have a feeling you're going to get a better offer. Just do me a favour and don't blow it, okay?"

"Wait a minute, what are you talking about?" Janeway acted as though she were confused, but she had the notion that she was beginning to understand.

"You'll see," came the cryptic reply, over Chakotay's shoulder as he made to leave. Then, feeling slightly guilty, his honesty got the better of him and he turned back to face Janeway. "Seven told me how much she cares for you, Kathryn, in the shuttlecraft when she left Voyager. She said that she would rather die or be assimilated than live without you."

Janeway's breath caught in her throat, and for the umpteenth time that day she had to brush a tear from her eye. Obviously not quite back to normal, she decided. Her gaze met Chakotay's sincere expression.

"She really said that?"

He nodded.

"Oh, Chakotay, I have a feeling I'm going to need your friendship, your counsel, more than ever. Can I trust you?"

"Absolutely." He had never meant anything more in his life. "Good luck, Kathryn."


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature between two women. You have been warned!

Chapter 5

**Part 1**

After Chakotay left, Janeway paced around her quarters, willing herself not to become agitated. Normally she enjoyed feeling anticipation, but this was different, a more edgy version with all the trembling hands and thumping heart but none of the usual pleasure. The Captain kept glancing at her clock, the minutes dragging by like a line of war-weary soldiers returning from a hard-fought battle.

"Computer, locate Seven-of-Nine."

_Seven-of-Nine is in turbolift 2_

At last, thought Janeway with relief, exhaling the breath that she didn't realise she had been holding. Just another minute or so, first to reach deck three and then traverse the short corridor from the turbolift to the Captain's quarters. Another minute passed, then two, three, four. On the upside, her worry was being replaced by irritation, which annoyed her even more for it wasn't as though there had been a time agreed. _'Patience, Kathryn,' _her inner voice admonished. Stuff that, thought Janeway.

"Computer, where the hell is Seven-of-Nine?"

_Seven-of-Nine is in turbolift 2_

"Still?" demanded Janeway. "She was in there five minutes ago. Is the lift ascending?"

_Affirmative_

The ex-Borg must have stopped off somewhere else, she realised, and only now was on her way to deck three. Janeway's heart crashed louder in her chest, and she wondered idly if it were possible for it to actually burst out like some sort of terrifying, parasitic alien, but the rational scientist in her decided that if such a thing could happen it would be well-documented by now. The thought made her smile, and suddenly she felt more relaxed – just in time, for the door beeped at that moment.

"Come in," called Janeway, yet again crossing the room to greet a visitor, though this time she knew exactly who it would be. The doors opened and Seven-of-Nine entered with no sign of hesitation, her expression set in the customary impassive mask that gave little away. The young ex-Borg was dressed in the usual attire of a tightly-fitting biosuit, in a light blue colour that matched her pale eyes. Her figure was slender yet womanly, and the clothing left little to the imagination. Janeway felt somewhat underdressed, but then again she wasn't supposed to have known about Seven's visit in advance.

"Hello, Seven," greeted the Captain in a neutral tone, standing still in the middle of the room. There was a brief, awkward pause where neither woman appeared to know what to say or do next, before Seven broke the spell, nodding towards the table over which was strewn Janeway's half-finished jigsaw.

"Your picture appears to be damaged, Captain," she commented, stepping over to the table and examining the work suspiciously. Janeway wasn't sure whether the blonde was serious or not – it was too easy to always assume that the Borg was lacking in humour – but decided to respond as though the statement had been in earnest.

"It's a jigsaw, Seven. You have to fit the pieces together to make the picture."

Seven-of-Nine placed a small bag that she was carrying on the floor next to her and slid into a high-backed dining chair, looking over the tiny pieces with interest. Within four seconds she had fitted a piece in, and as Janeway watched the black expanse to the left of Deep Space Nine was quickly filled, pinpricked with stars. The Captain wasn't really surprised, but she was curious.

"How are you doing that so quickly, Seven?" she asked, resting one hand lightly on Seven's arm as she peered over her shoulder.

"My eidetic memory allows me to recall the specifications of each piece I examine. Furthermore, the star pattern accurately reflects the constellations around Deep Space Nine, allowing anyone with knowledge of these to more easily select the correct pieces." The ex-Borg paused. "This pastime is more pleasing than I had anticipated."

Janeway laughed, all tension now gone as the women continued their light banter, deliberately avoiding conversation about their recent experiences together, for there would be time for that later. Seven's low voice cut through the Captain's musings, bringing her back from whatever dream land she had slipped into.

"Are you hungry, Captain?"

Realising that in fact she was famished, Janeway nodded. "Shall I replicate us something?" she offered, but Seven obviously had other plans.

"I had Mr. Neelix prepare dinner for us," replied the younger woman. "I hope that will be acceptable?"

Janeway spread her fingers, inclining her head in agreement.

"Computer, initiate site-to-site transport program Seven-of-Nine beta, authorisation Seven-of-Nine gamma omega four." On the counter top that ran by the replicator station, two steaming bowls appeared, along with two fully-laden plates and the necessary cutlery. "Tomato soup, followed by hunter's chicken with sauté potatoes, green beans and a vegetable similar to carrots," Seven continued, moving the meal over to the low coffee table after a pointed glance at the jigsaw-covered dining table.

They ate, talking periodically though the food was so delicious that Janeway found most of her attention focusing on eating. The cloth bag that Seven had brought with her still sat on the floor, and Janeway glanced at it out of the corner of her eye. Her curiosity was burning, but since Seven hadn't even mentioned it let alone offered it to Janeway, she tried to ignore it, knowing that sooner or later the mystery would be solved. Either that or the ex-Borg was messing with her mind, Janeway thought with amusement, carrying around strange little bags for no apparent reason.

**Part 2**

The meal was finished, plates returned to the replicator, and Janeway was relaxing in her favourite chair, legs tucked up underneath her. Opposite, Seven-of-Nine was perched on the couch, looking uncomfortable as she always did when made to sit. Janeway wondered if it were some kind of Borg preference – perhaps they didn't have chairs in the Collective? Or maybe it was the young woman herself, six feet of sinewy muscle that might prove difficult to stuff into an armchair. As Janeway regarded her friend, the ice-blue eyes stared back openly, and the Captain felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. She spoke quietly, asking a question that had intrigued her since the Borg had rescued her from alien captivity several days ago.

"Seven, tell me something. How did you know exactly when I'd been replaced by the impostor, when no-one else realised anything was wrong?"

The young woman's glance shifted away from Janeway, who sensed that the conversation was about to get tricky. Both women had suffered during the events, Janeway having been kept prisoner for six weeks, barely alive, whilst Seven had been ordered to leave the ship by Janeway's alien impostor and had contemplated rejoining the Borg Collective before realising what had happened and rescuing the real Captain.

"My memory allowed me to recall all of our recent interactions, Captain. I merely used these to accurately determine when your behaviour became anomalous." It sounded so simple.

"Anomalous in what way?"

"It was small things at first; individually irrelevant but when taken as a whole they indicated that you were…not yourself."

"What small things?" persisted Janeway, more intrigued than ever now. The phrase 'blood out of a stone' came to mind.

"You ordered a pot of tea with breakfast on two occasions despite your well-known preference for coffee. When we were in Astrometrics you used your left hand to indicate towards the viewscreen, even though your right hand was unoccupied. You used an idiomatic expression in my company without attempting to explain it. On one occasion your comm badge was misplaced by 1.3 centimetres."

Janeway sat up straighter, her forehead creasing as a twinge of discomfort touched her chest and ribcage. The Borg's eyebrow rose briefly before her glance strayed to the small bag which she had placed on the table in front of her. The older woman noticed the look but didn't comment.

"Good grief, Seven! From these things you deduced that I'd been replaced by an evil alien?" Janeway's tone was incredulous. "I'd better be careful not to drink coffee out of the wrong mug!"

"Yes, Captain." The Borg's voice was serious, causing Janeway to smile then laugh easily as the ridiculousness of the situation dawned upon her.

"That can't be all, though, Seven, seriously. Humans are creatures of habit, I admit, but we're not drones."

"No," admitted the younger woman, raising her eyes once again to meet Janeway's grey-blue gaze. "That was not all. It…it was your eyes, Captain." Janeway nodded for her to continue. "Normally when you look at me I see…warmth, and compassion. The impostor's eyes were cold and conveyed no affection, and frequently their colour was inconsistent with the mood."

The Captain was stunned at Seven's words. She was genuinely unaware of the younger woman's sensitivity to detail and awareness of Janeway's behaviour, and she wondered privately what else her eyes apparently conveyed as she broke their lock with Seven's own, resolving to interrogate Chakotay on the matter at the earliest opportunity. There had been another, less subtle alteration in the conversation, and Janeway felt hot and flustered. She rose slightly, intending to sit up straighter and stretch her legs out on the low table, but her aching body proved unwilling and she let out a gasp of pain as she uncurled.

"Are you in pain, Captain?" Seven asked instantly, half-rising from her own chair and picking up her mystery bag. Through the pain, Janeway nodded, then clasped her arms around herself as another stab of agony shot through her stomach.

"A little," Janeway admitted, and suddenly she felt a warm presence next to her as Seven-of-Nine sat on the arm of her chair, steadying the older woman with a protective hand.

"Then it is fortunate that I brought these," the Borg commented, dangling the little package in front of her Captain. "Medicinal, herbal bath salts, Captain. I developed the recipe today in addition to a new biopolymer coating for each individual tablet as they are highly hygroscopic. It will soothe the pain and prove quite relaxing. One per bath should suffice." Seven stood, taking Janeway's arm and lifting her easily to her feet.

"I suggest that you try this now. Would you like me run a bath for you?"

"No, that's ok." Janeway had thought she couldn't be surprised further by the young woman, but it was clear that there were layers of hidden depths to the ex-Borg, and the Captain felt a warm wave of affection for her friend. "I'll do it. There's a bottle of wine somewhere that Chakotay brought; perhaps you would open it, Seven?"

**Part 3**

The older woman hobbled into her bathroom and programmed the temperature and volume, adding one of the individually-wrapped tablets from the cloth bag and, with a sudden thought, hoped that it produced enough bubbles to protect her decency, though Seven probably wouldn't be bothered either way. Glancing up at the door and realising gratefully that the Borg was deliberately allowing her time to get into the tub, Janeway smiled as she carefully undressed. She examined her naked form ruefully in a full-length mirror affixed to the bedroom wall, noting the many purple areas and three dark, black bruises where her body had been violated by an alien device. Old scars criss-crossed her skin, mingling with new ones, and she suddenly felt old, tired and singularly unattractive. With a deep sigh, she climbed into the bath, inhaling the pleasant scent of the bubbles.

The clink of a glass roused Janeway from her light doze, which must have only lasted for seconds but which left her with a feeling of disorientation. With delight she noted that her pain had lessened considerably, her lean muscles feeling looser and the ache around her middle all but gone. Seven-of-Nine lowered herself onto a stool next to the bath, and Janeway surreptitiously glanced down to make sure she was fully covered. Pouring two glasses, the Borg regarded the bottle with interest, sniffing the top as though she were a consummate wine buff.

"Adequate," she declared, handing a glass to Janeway who sipped eagerly. It was more than adequate, and she sent a silent message of thanks to her thoughtful first officer. Feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while, Janeway watched her friend, noting the finely-chiselled features, worthy of a classical sculpture; the shining blonde hair that was gathered into a complicated arrangement and which took on the appearance of spun sunshine; the pale, ice-blue eyes that possessed a clarity that fit the young woman's temperament so well.

"Captain?" Seven's tone was inquiring, having noticed the Captain's scrutiny.

"I was just…thinking about – I was just thinking," she amended, wondering if her eyes had told Seven exactly what she had been thinking. "I think it's time we talked, Seven," she continued softly, taking another sip of wine and looking away, wondering how to start.

"Have we not been doing so already?" asked the Borg, an eyebrow twitching, and the Captain resisted the urge to groan. This was not going to be easy. Deciding on the direct approach so often favoured by the younger woman herself, Janeway took the plunge.

"I wanted to talk about last night, and before that," she began, keeping her voice low and calm. "The Doctor came to see me earlier, as I'm sure you know. He told me that you were…upset, that you were having difficulty in understanding what had happened between us. I felt the same, Seven – I was scared and confused. I don't regret the closeness we shared, not at all; I needed you to hold me and if I had the time over I wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

Janeway stopped, looking intently at the glass she was holding, her long fingers circling the rim as she considered her words. Her companion waited patiently without interrupting. "I didn't want to hurt you, or for you to hurt me, Seven. I didn't know what you wanted."

Now the Borg did interrupt in her usual, straightforward fashion with little regard for human delicacy. "I wanted to make love to you, Captain."

It took all of Janeway's self-possession to stay calm at this quiet pronouncement, but she managed it, just. With alarm she noticed that the bubbles surrounding her were gradually decreasing, and already the water had turned from opaque to translucent, the pink skin of Janeway's body becoming visible in a tantalising refractive distortion. Not answering Seven's words, Janeway spoke again.

"Our bond has been growing, Seven, developing for a long time, and I've denied it." Janeway finally met Seven's eyes once more and found that it was suddenly difficult to breathe. "I suppose I'm still denying it," she admitted, tentatively reaching out a dripping hand and gently clasping Seven's own, feeling the coolness of the Borg's skin against her own.

"Are you saying that you are…attracted to me?"

"Yes," the Captain answered simply. For a long time neither of them spoke, their hands linked gently as each considered the implications of Janeway's reply. Eventually, though, the older woman had to move, for the bathwater was now all but transparent, and should Seven glance that way she would see perhaps more than she bargained for, though nothing she hadn't already seen several times.

"Can you pass me a towel?" Janeway asked, covering herself with her arms in a very human, self-conscious gesture. Seven did so, considerately averting her eyes as Janeway pulled herself upright and dried quickly, dragging on the white robe that she had so boldly discarded the previous evening, wondering whether it would soon suffer the same fate once more.

**Part 4**

Once again there was a hint of awkwardness, a mutual hesitation and loss of conversation between the Captain and Seven-of-Nine, though this time the reason was very clear. As the older, more experienced woman, it was up to Janeway to move things along – or not, she thought as the young Borg made for an armchair even as Janeway was moving towards the couch. She regarded the blonde intently, scanning for a hint of what she was feeling, but Seven's expression was unfathomable. _'Your move, Kathryn'_.

"Seven? Join me on the couch?" It was phrased as a question, which is exactly what it was, for Janeway was determined that whatever was going to happen would happen with the full understanding and consent of both parties. She was pleased when Seven moved, settling next to Janeway who leaned into the Borg, resting her head on a warm shoulder. She was even more pleased when, tentatively, Seven's arms reached around her shoulders, pulling the older woman onto the Borg's lap and cradling her gently. Returning the gesture, Janeway circled her own arms around Seven's waist, and the two women shared a few minutes of delicious closeness, the anticipation coursing through Janeway's entire body, and she forced herself to be calm.

Slowly, the Captain lifted her head a fraction and, without urgency, brushed her lips over the smooth skin of Seven's neck just briefly, before returning to her previous position. She felt a shiver of pleasure as her caress was rewarded with a return kiss on Janeway's temple, longer this time, Seven's mouth tracing a leisurely path down the older woman's cheek. Barely keeping her heightening arousal in check, Janeway lifted her face to Seven's, their lips meeting in a deepening kiss that quickly became passionate and wanting. Disengaging gently, their eyes locked hungrily, and Janeway's voice sounded as a throaty purr.

"Are you sure, Seven?"

In response, the ex-Borg took hold of the older woman by the hips, carefully manoeuvring her so that Janeway's legs straddled her own, and kissed her more forcefully but with underlying tenderness that made Janeway want to weep. The robe had come undone, and with steady hands the younger woman explored her Captain's body, stroking the narrow shoulders and compact waist, passing over the slightly rounded stomach before, in the first overtly sexual touch they had shared, resting lightly on Janeway's small, perfect breasts.

Janeway sucked in a breath as Seven's thumbs danced across her nipples, already hardened as she felt her arousal increase even further. She knew that they had to slow down, and bent forward to kiss the Borg again, more softly this time, and Seven seemed to understand. They embraced, two warm bodies moulding together, and Janeway heard a soft murmur in her ear.

"I believe we should relocate to the bedroom, Captain."

Not the most romantic proposition Janeway had ever received, but the intention behind the low growl was clear, and another spark of desire set fire to Janeway's centre of pleasure. They moved quickly, and as Janeway reclined on the soft duvet she watched her companion undress, stripping out of the tight biosuit to reveal her attractive, pale form which the Captain admired. Seven joined Janeway, lying next to the older woman and pulling her close so that the entire lengths of their bodies were touching.

Janeway felt a tingle from her groin to the base of her skull, fireworks dancing in her brain as her body frantically produced those chemicals that provided so much pleasure. The younger woman's lips now encircled a proud nipple, sucking gently and flicking with her tongue, and Janeway knew that her peak was close. Urgently she took one of Seven's hands and directed it towards the apex of her legs, the fingers dancing through her thick auburn thatch before probing Janeway's intimate folds.

The Captain's breath came in short gasps now as the Borg's slender fingers stroked her, rubbing the tiny nub gently, rhythmically until with a crash the climax hit her, carrying the pleasure up and filling her whole body as she trembled, clutching onto Seven-of-Nine and repeating her name over and over as the waves finally lessened, Janeway falling limply to the sheets, heart pounding.

Without a word, a long pair of arms passed around her, pulling the Captain's sturdy body close to the younger woman's, who lightly kissed Janeway's neck before speaking the final words of the evening.

"Sleep well, Captain."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Janeway yawned lazily, stretching out a questing arm across her large bed. Finding it empty, she opened one eye to check, confirming that she had, in fact, woken up alone. More than a little disappointed, the Captain of Voyager sat up. Though she still ached, it was nowhere near the agony that she had experienced the previous day, and she stretched experimentally.

"Computer, what time is it?" Janeway asked, yawning once again. It was an unusual occurrence for her to be able to stay in bed until she woke naturally, though she wouldn't care to repeat the harrowing experience that had given her this opportunity. One alien kidnap per lifetime was quite enough.

_The time is 10.22 hours_ came the prim reply. That explained the emptiness of the bed, she thought, as Seven-of-Nine, Janeway's new lover – a shiver ran down her spine as she savoured the word – would have started her duty shift over an hour ago. Climbing out of bed, she padded to the bathroom and after a quick shower didn't so much choose her clothing as put on the first things that came to hand – brown, casual trousers, black t-shirt and a cream-coloured, v-necked jumper. Yawning yet again, she realised that she badly needed coffee.

A light on the replicator was flashing, indicating that it had already been programmed, and Janeway smiled, touched that Seven would have thought to organise her breakfast before she left. The woman had shown extraordinary patience and support, and now such an unexpected, thoughtful gesture, and as the Captain pressed buttons on the panel she felt a rush of affection for the ex-Borg. A plate of scrambled eggs on hot, buttered toast materialised, along with a glass of orange juice and, Janeway was relieved to see, a large mug of coffee. About to take the meal over to the low table, she noticed that there was a large space cleared on the dining table due to the fact that the jigsaw was now complete, making the Captain smile as she sat and looked wistfully at the picture of Deep Space Nine, with the Bajoran wormhole in the distance and a variety of Federation vessels flying or docked at the station.

A note was folded in half on top of the puzzle; a proper paper note written with one of the Captain's antique pens. It had no name on the outside, but as these were Janeway's quarters it would be sensible to assume that it was for her, and so she picked it up and opened it. The script was large and rounded, written by a hand unused to the task. The wording was curious, a mixture of formal and personal, and Janeway imagined that it had taken Seven-of-Nine quite some time. She read the words out, softly, a lump rising in her throat.

_Captain Janeway_

_Thank you for a wonderful evening. I apologise for leaving, but I am on duty. _

_I did not wish to go, for you looked so peaceful and beautiful that I could have watched you and held you for hours._

_I programmed breakfast; I hope that you find it satisfactory. Please join me for lunch in Holodeck 2 at 13:00, if you are not busy._

_Yours,_

_Seven of Nine._

**Part 2**

Tom Paris, his partner B'Elanna Torres and Harry Kim were enjoying a late breakfast in the mess hall. At least, they were eating food – sometimes enjoyment was rather difficult where Neelix's cooking was concerned. Torres put down her knife and fork and leaned across the table, and Tom sighed, knowing what was coming. The Chief Engineer was also Voyager's chief gossip, and Paris wondered how she managed it – after all, the half-Klingon was hardly the most approachable person on board. Maybe she beat information out of people, he thought, only half-joking.

"I was working on the new sensor relay last night," began Torres, and Tom relaxed slightly at the benign nature of the topic. "So I called Seven to ask for her help -"

"B'Elanna, you never ask Seven for help. You just wanted to find out where she was." Harry Kim joined the conversation with an astute observation, and earned himself a glare from the engineer.

"Anyway, she didn't answer, so I asked the computer where she was." She paused for effect. "She was in the Captain's quarters."

"So?" remarked Tom through a mouthful of bacon. "They've been through a lot together; they were probably talking about that. And anyway," he added, "it's none of your business."

"Well, maybe. But," B'Elanna continued, her eyes gleaming as she spoke, "then this morning I, er, wanted her help again, and guess where she was?"

Paris and Kim shook their heads simultaneously.

"She was still in the Captain's quarters! They spent the night together, Tom, can you believe it?" Torres was excited, grinning from ear to ear.

"You don't know that, B'Elanna. Seven might have visited the Captain again this morning -"

"At 06:00 hours?" interrupted Torres sceptically.

"That's enough, stay out of it. I mean it, B'Elanna. It's bad enough talking about Seven behind her back, but if it involves the Captain it's ten times worse. If she found out you were spying on Seven she'd make you scrub the plasma manifolds for a month!"

Torres carried on as though Paris hadn't even spoken. "I wonder if they, you know…"

"Slept together?" Harry put in. "Well, what else would they have done all night?"

"Not you too, Harry!" exclaimed Paris. "I'd better get back to the bridge. And I really, really think that you two should stop this conversation now. The Captain's had enough to deal with, and whatever is going on we should leave it alone. So what if she and Seven are involved, anyway? She deserves to be happy, just like everyone else. I'll see you later."

Torres and Kim watched the young officer leave, somewhat subdued by his serious tone and realising that he had a point. It wouldn't stop them speculating, of course, but Tom was right – all any of the crew wanted for the Captain was for her to keep them safe, get Voyager home and hopefully achieve a little happiness of her own.

**Part 3**

Chakotay was looking for Janeway, without success so far. She wasn't in her quarters, but her comm badge was, sitting innocently on a table. Even though she was off duty, it was still technically a breach of protocol to remove it, but he could understand it all the same. The First Officer had also checked the holodecks, gym, mess hall, engineering, ready room, science labs, astrometrics and sick bay. When he tried to contact the Captain over the comm system, the computer informed him that _'Captain Janeway does not wish to be disturbed'_, making Chakotay smile despite his mild annoyance.

Eventually, he found her in the observation lounge, sitting alone and gazing out of the window. Janeway did not seem surprised to see the Commander or irritated at being disturbed, and she gestured towards another chair, inviting him to sit down. He waited patiently. And waited. And waited. He was a patient man, but he did have bridge duty and reports to write and rotas to approve, and in the end he broke the silence.

"How are you feeling, Captain?" he asked softly, his brown eyes watching Janeway intently.

She turned to face him, smiling briefly. He had known that Seven was going to visit her the previous evening, and he also knew that the ex-Borg cared deeply for the Captain, and he was not a stupid or insensitive man. Janeway trusted him wholly, as a First Officer and a friend, and it was the friend she needed right now.

"I'm much better, thank you. Seven gave me some bath salts, would you believe, she designed the recipe herself. They worked wonders, you know." She stopped, looking down at her elegant hands. "I – I'm not sure what to do, Chakotay. Seven and I spent the night together, I care for her a lot, and I'm not worried about the fact that she's a member of the crew. It's just…I don't want to hurt her. She's still so new to being human; she has a naivety in some respects that's almost childlike. And yet in other ways she's frighteningly experienced, with the things she has seen and learned whilst with the Borg."

The large man sat forward, listening not only to Janeway's words but also her tone, and watching her body language. He had come to know Janeway better than anyone else on board except Tuvok, and was able to read her better than most. She was worried, anxious but also very obviously in love. Every time she said Seven's name her expression softened, became brighter, and her voice changed. Chakotay wondered if Janeway herself realised how she felt.

"She is probably just as worried about hurting you, Kathryn. But that shouldn't stop you from having a relationship, if that's what you want. It might be difficult, there will be misunderstandings and you will have to show her how to behave, talk to her about things that are acceptable and things that aren't, set very clear boundaries. But she loves you – that's what important. If you feel the same then nothing should get in the way."

"I know," replied Janeway softly, looking out of the window once again. Chakotay stood up and patted her shoulder gently.

"If you need anything, or want to talk, call me at any time. You've got tomorrow off duty too, doctor's orders -"

"That damned hologram – I specifically told him that I was returning to duty tomorrow!" interrupted the Captain furiously, and Chakotay held up a hand.

"Well, you're not. Anyway, Voyager's fine, there's nothing happening, nothing interesting on sensors. You won't miss anything, so just take another day to make sure you're fully recovered. Why not spend tomorrow with Seven? I've got some holodeck time saved which you can use, and I'll rearrange the duty rotas," Chakotay offered. Janeway was about to refuse when the little voice inside stopped her.

"That would be nice," she admitted, also standing. "Thank you, Chakotay."

"You're welcome, Captain. See you later."

The First Officer disappeared, leaving Janeway alone with her thoughts.

**Part 4**

"Great choice, Seven," enthused the Captain, looking around at the breathtaking recreation of Yosemite national park back on Earth. The holographic sun felt warm, and she had taken off her jumper after a few minutes, tying it around her waist. Seven-of-Nine carried a large hamper, placing it carefully down after the older woman had chosen a spot for their picnic lunch. The grass was soft, and Seven unrolled a thick blanket to sit on, half-in and half-out of the shade of a large tree.

Janeway continued to look around as the younger woman extracted food, crockery and cutlery from the seemingly bottomless basket. "Did you know, Seven, that James T. Kirk once fell off that mountain?" she pointed into the distance. "El Capitan. He was climbing it, apparently."

"I did not know that," replied the ex-Borg, glancing in the direction Janeway indicated and frowning slightly. "I assume he died," she stated, resuming her unpacking. A bottle of wine was opened and carefully placed next to two glasses.

Janeway laughed. "Actually, he didn't. A friend happened to be trying out hover boots – actually it was he who distracted Kirk in the first place – and he managed to catch him before he reached the ground. It takes more than a mountain to kill a man like that."

Seven regarded her Captain curiously. "Do humans not fear death?" she asked, locking her eyes onto Janeway's, who wished she had never started the conversation. She had an idea that she would feel that way a great deal from now on.

"Some do," she answered carefully, sitting down on the blanket and pouring wine into their glasses. "But we live a lot longer than people used to, medicine is much more advanced. Personally, I only think about dying when it seems imminent, like when we were attacked by the Kazon and the Vidiians."

"I have never considered the matter," Seven stated as she handed a plate to Janeway.

It appeared that the conversation was over, and the Captain was relieved. Death wasn't her least favourite topic – that would be temporal paradoxes – but it wasn't among her favourites. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Janeway watched the younger woman eat, marvelling at how much she had changed since she had first come aboard Voyager as a Borg Drone. Then, she didn't eat or sleep, relying on a regeneration chamber which she now rarely used. Unthinkingly, Janeway reached out a hand and touched Seven's cheek, feeling the soft skin against her fingers.

"Captain?" Seven's tone was surprised but not discouraging, and Janeway allowed her hand to fall slowly, tracing the outline of the blonde's shoulders and biceps. The Borg raised her hand to meet Janeway's, their fingers intertwining gently. Janeway squeezed briefly before letting go, feeling a vague emptiness when she did so.

"You are beautiful, Seven. I just wanted to touch you, make sure you were real and I wasn't dreaming."

"You are not dreaming," the younger woman informed her seriously. Janeway smiled, and they carried on eating, chatting as they did so.

Before long they were both full, the plates and leftover food returned to the hamper, and both women lay side by side on the blanket, looking up at the small, puffy clouds floating through the bright blue sky. There was something Janeway needed to ask before anything else happened, if indeed anything was going to happen, but she was struggling to find a way of asking it. She sat up, shifting so that she could lean against the tree trunk, and Seven rolled onto her side, looking up at the Captain questioningly.

"I…I'd like to ask you something, Seven," she said hesitatingly.

"Proceed."

"It's a little awkward and, well, personal," Janeway continued, not meeting Seven's eyes. The ex-Borg propped herself up on one elbow.

"I assure you that I will not be uncomfortable with anything you ask, Captain."

"I was thinking more about myself, actually," said the older woman ruefully. Taking a deep breath, she decided to come straight out with it – well, as much as possible. "I wondered, I mean I wanted to ask you about…if you can, ah, I mean, whether your human anatomy can function, erm, sexually, I mean." It was the hardest thing Janeway had ever said, and she felt her face flush bright red. She knew that, if they were to have a relationship, she needed to be able to talk to Seven-of-Nine about any topic, because the ex-Borg appeared not to feel embarrassment at anything and would no doubt ask some very difficult questions of Janeway.

Seven's expression didn't change from one of mild curiosity as she thought about the Captain's question, obviously trying to decide exactly what the other woman meant. "The doctor assures me that my anatomy will allow me to have normal sexual relations, Captain."

"So…you haven't tried?" asked Janeway.

"I have not yet experienced that activity for myself. Do you wish to make love to me?"

Janeway almost choked, feeling her heart beat faster, though with arousal or embarrassment at the directness of Seven's questions she wasn't sure. She thought of several replies she could make, discarding them all immediately and settling for another question instead. "But can you…feel things, you know, if I touch you?"

"I am capable of reaching orgasm, according to the Doctor, but I have not done so. Does that answer your question satisfactorily?"

"Yes," nodded the Captain, relief washing over her as she realised that she would, at least, never have to go through that particular conversation again but with part of her worried that there could be even worse to come, though she couldn't imagine what. "Come here," she said softly, beckoning the younger woman closer. Seven sat in front of Janeway, leaning back so that her head nestled under the Captain's chin. Janeway kissed her head lightly, then her ear, nibbling gently before moving on to the slender neck.

The Borg tilted her head as the older woman trailed her lips across her throat, enjoying the delicate sensation. Then Janeway shifted, bringing her mouth to Seven's and kissing her on the lips, gently, whilst her hand found the zip at the back of Seven's biosuit and lowered it slowly, revealing the pale skin little by little. Raising her hips to allow Janeway to push the suit down, the younger woman then kicked it off entirely, leaning back against the Captain.

Janeway's hands moved slowly, touching every inch of her lover's arms, shoulders and back, light kisses following her fingers. Her arms then reached around, caressing Seven's waist and flat stomach before moving up to the full breasts, massaging them tenderly and catching the nipples between thumb and forefinger. The ex-Borg gasped, surprised at what she felt as a jolt passed through her. The Captain changed direction again, running her arms up the length of Seven's from hand to shoulder, causing the younger woman to feel a slight disappointment as the warm hands left her breasts.

Savouring the feel of the supple body, Janeway took her time, feeling the powerful muscles under the soft skin. She could feel them tautening as Seven's arousal increased and the Borg began to breathe faster, her hands forming fists that she pressed down into the ground, and Janeway realised that the younger woman was desperately trying to keep still. It occurred to her that with Seven's Borg enhancements she could easily cause Janeway harm, snapping a bone or crushing a limb, not on purpose of course, but if she were to lose her control…the Captain stopped, resting her hands by her side. This would need to be discussed, she knew.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" Seven asked breathlessly, her voice low and wanting.

"I'm not sure," Janeway whispered in her ear, reaching once again around the young Borg and embracing her tightly. "How did you feel?"

"I did not want you to stop," replied Seven pointedly. Janeway smiled.

"I want you to get used to being touched, feeling aroused. I don't want to do anything that would surprise you or make you uncomfortable. If I did, you might…lose control. It scares me, Seven," she admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek and dripping onto Seven's bare shoulder.

There was a moment of silence; the Captain could feel the younger woman's body tense and she loosened her hold, but the Borg did not move away from her.

"I can control my reactions, Captain, whether feeling pleasure or pain. Your fears are understandable but unnecessary." There was an assurance in Seven's confident tone that Janeway recognised. "I will not hurt you."

Janeway kissed Seven's cheek again before burying her face in the fine, blonde hair, inhaling the fresh scent that reminded her of pine woods. Once again her hands roamed over her friend's body, brushing across both hardened nipples and caressing the plump breasts with a firm touch. The Borg's breathing quickened again, and when Janeway lowered one hand, skipping across the firm stomach, Seven pushed up towards the Captain's hand.

With long, delicate fingers Janeway toyed with the blonde triangle of hair, ignoring the urgent whimpers and Seven's attempts to hurry her. She reached out as far as she could along the slender thighs, drawing patterns with her fingers as she dragged them back lightly up the inside. With her other hand, she lightly pinched each nipple in turn, running her thumb around and across.

The older woman nibbled Seven's ear and planted kisses down her neck and shoulders. As her lower hand drew closer to the ex-Borg's centre of pleasure, the long legs parted, and finally Janeway's fingers dipped between the glistening folds, eliciting a low moan from the young woman. Finding the small, hard bump, she massaged it with the side of her thumb, gently stroking across the bundle of nerves. She kept the same rhythm with her other hand, squeezing Seven's nipple.

Stiffening suddenly, Seven pressed back against Janeway, thrusting harder against the skilled fingers, panting with desire and pleasure. The Captain continued as the ex-Borg let out a soft moan, her limbs jerking as she reached the peak of her first, wonderful climax. It seemed to last forever as Janeway kept up her deft movements, driving the young woman on until she finally shuddered and was still. Returning her arms to Seven's waist, the older woman embraced her, pulling the limp form against her as tightly as she could.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Part 1**

Captain Janeway was at a loose end. Currently off duty, she had just finished an interesting lunch with Seven-of-Nine who had returned to duty in Astrometrics rather late and slightly dishevelled. They had made no plans to meet again, though Janeway planned to spend the following day with the ex-Borg on the holodeck. The Captain wandered idly through the corridors, trying to decide on which holodeck program would be most suitable. She was still not completely recovered from the injuries she had sustained during an alien kidnap, so it couldn't involve anything too strenuous. Perhaps a stroll through an old Earth city – New York, Paris, Oxford, perhaps Munich or Tokyo. She knew all of these well enough to occupy a full day in a holographic recreation of one of them.

Deciding that she would make the final choice tomorrow, with Seven's input, Janeway began to pay more attention to her surroundings. She found herself on Deck five, close to sick bay, and with some slight misgivings decided to pay the doctor a visit – social, rather than medical.

"Good afternoon, Captain. You're looking very well, if I may say so. I take it you aren't here as a patient?" As the Doctor spoke he examined Janeway with his eyes, pleased at what he saw. She had a lightness in her step despite her lingering bruises and her eyes shone blue, crinkling as she smiled. There was no trace of anxiety or depression in her voice or body language, which was amazing considering what she had been through, and the very fact that the Captain had voluntarily entered sick bay for no reason was surprising in itself.

"Hello, Doctor. No, I feel great, I just thought I'd pop in as I was passing, say hello. Always good to see the place empty," Janeway noted, seeing that none of the biobeds were occupied. Too often during Voyager's trek through the Delta Quadrant had sick bay been filled to capacity with the injured, sick and dying. But for today, Janeway wasn't about to dwell on such thoughts.

"I agree. It gives me chance to work on my research projects, as well as to develop other skills," remarked the hologram. "I was wondering, Captain – did you talk to Seven-of-Nine last night? I haven't had the chance to speak with her today. I hope that you were able to sort out your…misunderstanding."

"We talked, Doctor, and everything is fine. Better than fine, actually," added Janeway slyly, a broad smile on her face. She realised that Seven would most likely tell the Doctor about everything that had happened, and made a note to tell her that whilst it was fine to speak to the Doctor, Janeway wanted to keep their developing relationship from the rest of the crew, Chakotay excepted.

"Glad to hear it, Captain. Am I to assume that you have been intimate with one another?"

Like Seven, the Doctor seemed to have little sense of how personal some questions could be and whether they might cause embarrassment, though privately Janeway thought that the hologram knew exactly what he was doing. The doctor continued to speak before Janeway could reply.

"I only ask from a physician's perspective, Captain. I was almost certain that Seven would be able to function in that area, but until that was tested I couldn't know for sure." Voyager's Chief Medical Officer remained po-faced, the very picture of a caring doctor enquiring about a patient, and Janeway was amused.

"I can tell you that Seven-of-Nine _functions_ perfectly, Doctor," replied Janeway, her voice completely calm and her expression giving nothing away. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you, but I'd better get on. I need to ask Mr. Neelix for some culinary advice, or you might have a couple of cases of poisoning on your hands tonight."

"In that case, I would advise you to avoid poultry, and anything that is still moving when it is served."

Janeway laughed, patting the Doctor on the back, and was still laughing as she walked out through the sick bay doors, a sound that the hologram hadn't heard for a while. If Seven-of-Nine makes the Captain so happy, he hoped the relationship would continue for a very long time.

**Part 2**

Neelix, the ship's chef and self-appointed morale officer, guide and occasional ambassador, was bending over a large, steaming pot, stirring carefully and sniffing. Janeway watched the little Talaxian from the doorway as he frowned and turned to the counter where several tubs of spices stood, their lids off. He took a pinch from one container and sprinkled it into the pot, stirred again and sniffed. A little shake of the head, then another pinch form a different tub. Stir, sniff. This time he appeared to be satisfied, giving his creation a final stir before moving to a different pan which sizzled noisily, giving off an aroma rather like garlic. He spotted Janeway at that moment and grinned in delight, waving her over.

"I have a very special dish for tonight, Captain – a spiced meat stew that is popular on one of the outermost Talaxian colonies. I purchased some of the meat for a good price, and I have a feeling it's going to be a real success! Would you like me to have some sent to your quarters?"

Janeway paused, weighing up the pros and cons of eating Neelix's cooking as opposed to attempting something herself. There really wasn't much contest. "That would be lovely, Neelix. Send enough for two, would you, with whatever else you've got, say at 20:00 hours?"

Neelix positively beamed at Janeway's words. "Of course, Captain," he enthused, delighted at the request. "May I ask who you'll be dining with?"

Janeway smiled. "I'm not quite sure yet," she lied, whilst convincing herself that it technically wasn't a lie as she hadn't actually asked Seven to have dinner with her yet. "But this looks too good to eat alone. Thank you, Neelix."

As she turned to go, the furry man pushed a small package into the Captain's hands. She wondered if it were some sort of tradition that she wasn't aware of, to give the Captain presents after she had been taken prisoner by aliens, and intended to ask Jean-Luc Picard as soon as Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant.

"A Ferresian blend, Captain, that tastes almost identical to the finest Earth coffee."

Janeway didn't like the _almost_ in that sentence, but accepted the gift with warm thanks. Clutching the little bag in one hand, she made her way to a turbolift and rode it down to Deck 8 and the Astrometrics lab. "Damned if I'm eating that concoction alone," she muttered to herself.

**Part 3**

Feeling somewhat self-conscious as she traversed the corridors whilst out of uniform, Janeway was relieved when she arrived at Astrometrics. About to enter in her normal manner, she stopped herself, remembering suddenly that behind this door was a woman to whom she had made love little over an hour ago. That woman was on duty, and therefore fraternisation of any sort was out of the question. The Captain was fairly certain that she would have to explain that to the ex-Borg, and as she entered she steeled herself for the discussion.

"Hello, Seven," greeted Janeway, her tone warm but not overly so. The blonde glanced over her shoulder and nodded once before turning back to the console she was working at. A diagram that Janeway didn't recognise was on the massive screen at the front of the room. Normally she would ask about the work Seven was doing, what the display meant, but the Captain decided against it since she wasn't on duty – she would find out soon enough if there were any developments.

As Janeway approached the younger woman, Seven continued working, manipulating the controls with dextrous ease, her long fingers skipping over the panel as she entered commands.

"Good afternoon, Captain," the Borg greeted formally, with no trace of anything other than cool professionalism. She didn't even face Janeway, let alone attempt to touch her, and the older woman felt a curious pang of disappointment. Evidently the ex-Borg was well aware of the rules regarding conduct whilst on duty, and whilst Janeway wasn't looking forward to having to explain what was and was not appropriate, it occurred to her that she had underestimated her friend entirely.

"I wondered if you would like to join me for dinner tonight. Say, 19:30 hours in my quarters? Neelix has a new recipe I agreed to try out." Janeway spoke softly, standing next to Seven at the work station but not so close that they were touching.

The younger woman didn't take her eyes off the screen as she replied. "That would be acceptable, Captain."

"And I thought tomorrow, since you're not working, we could spend the day on the holodeck. I was thinking about one of the city simulations, maybe 20th Century Oxford, or 21st Century New York? Of course, if you'd like to do something different, then -"

"Captain," interrupted Seven firmly, finally locking her ice-blue eyes onto Janeway's. "I am on duty. I do not believe this is an appropriate time for this conversation. I suggest we discuss the matter tonight."

Janeway's stomach jolted and her expression was that of shock. It wasn't often that anyone interrupted her, and never before in order to tell her that she was being inappropriate – usually it was the other way round. The ex-Borg was right, of course, but it didn't stop the feelings of hurt embarrassment from creeping up on Janeway. Forcing herself to adopt a normal tone, she spoke again.

"You're right. I'll see you later, then." Without waiting for a reply, the stunned Captain meekly left the room.

**Part 4**

Janeway had soaked for aeons in a hot bath, scrubbing herself thoroughly, washing her hair which now smelled of citrus fruits and emerging pink and very clean. She selected black trousers and a dark green blouse which contrasted nicely with the subtle red of her hair. Now, she was sitting in her favourite chair, holding a glass of pale amber liquid with both hands. She hadn't been able to get the conversation in Astrometrics out of her thoughts and had gone over it a hundred times, trying to analyse why it had upset her. Taking another sip of whisky, she allowed her inner voice to say its piece, debating with herself out loud.

'_You wanted Seven to show affection for you.'_

'Why would I want that, when she was on duty?'

'_It's what you expected. You don't like to be wrong, Kathryn.'_

'If she had tried to kiss me or touch me, or said anything too personal, I would've had to stop her.'

'_Then you would have been in control.'_

'No, it's not that. I didn't _want_ to have to explain to Seven.'

'_You felt rejected by her. You wanted her to say something, do something to show that she loves you.'_

Janeway took a large gulp from her glass. That last thought had approached the truth closer than she wanted to admit, knowing how irrational it was. It didn't matter now, anyway – that conversation was over, and she willed herself to look forward to the evening she was to spend with Seven-of-Nine. Rising from the chair, the Captain crossed to the counter and poured more whisky from the almost-full bottle which stood on the top. Despite her Irish heritage, she had always preferred Scotch whisky, and this was a particularly fine single malt that she had been saving. The antique clock on the far wall informed Janeway that it was almost time for her guest to arrive, and so she picked up another glass from a shelf and poured into it a generous measure of the fiery liquid.

Right on time, the door beeped, and Janeway called for her companion to enter. Seven did so, and her appearance left the Captain open-mouthed. The tall, slender woman wore a long, black dress that clung to her body like a second skin. It was cut low at the neck, revealing the tops of the Borg's full breasts and the enticing dip between them. One side of the dress was slit almost to the top of Seven's thigh, and the tantalising glimpse of pale skin was enough to quicken Janeway's heart and send a pulse of desire through her lower regions.

"Good evening," managed the older woman, staring openly at Seven for a good minute before she remembered her manners and put her glass down, crossing the room to embrace her friend warmly. She felt the strong arms pass around her waist, holding her tight, before the ex-Borg's soft lips found her own. The kiss was deep and passionate, with probing tongues dancing, and it seemed to last minutes before Janeway finally pulled away, breathing hard. "You look amazing, Seven," she said, her eyes taking in every graceful curve, every inch of bare, smooth skin.

Seven inclined her head, accepting the compliment, and Janeway was painfully aware that she could never look that good, no matter what she wore or how many hours she spent in the gym. She felt old and dumpy, which she knew was untrue but then again, compared to Seven-of-Nine, anyone would feel that way. The Captain became aware that she was just standing there, and hurriedly she picked up the two glasses, handing one to the younger woman who sipped cautiously. They moved to the seating area, Janeway taking her chair and Seven lowering herself to the couch.

The slit in the black dress widened as the tall woman sat, giving Janeway another view to savour, and as she did so her pulse quickened again. She couldn't remember ever feeling so quickly and powerfully aroused, blood rushing to certain parts of her anatomy, making her light-headed and unable to concentrate. Throwing caution to the wind, the decisive Captain put down her glass, marched around the low table separating her from her lover, and held out a pleading hand.

"I want you, Seven," she whispered, her gaze meeting the Borg's. "I need you, now." Feeling a hand in hers, nothing else seemed to exist as she led the younger woman into her bedroom. Quickly, urgently, she pulled Seven into another embrace, kissing her again forcefully, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Fumbling with the fastening on her trousers, Janeway managed to undo them and kick them off, followed by her underwear, and immediately she was pushed down onto the bed. A moan escaped her throat, a low, animal-like sound, as fingers touched her intimately.

Somehow the young blonde knew what her Captain wanted, and Janeway felt the pressure building as Seven's fingers stroked the sensitive ridge, now slick with her moisture, teeth scraping her throbbing nipples through her clothing. Within seconds, the explosion ripped through her body, short gasps coming faster as Janeway shuddered through her climax.

Outside the ship, a literal explosion impacted against the shields, rocking Voyager violently. If the two women had been standing, they would have been knocked to the ground, so powerful was the blast.

"Oh, damn it to hell!" Janeway shouted, with feeling.

**THE END**

**Author's Note**

That's it for 'House Call', I hope you enjoyed it. This story was a more personal interlude before the adventures begin again. Look out for the next story in the series, which will be entitled "Call to Arms".

Thank you once again for your reviews, comments and suggestions. As always, they are very much appreciated.

Sam.


End file.
